


In Passing

by mansikka



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Future, Future Character Death, Hopeful Ending, Immortal Alec Lightwood, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: On the anniversary of Max's death, Alec and Magnus visit the Lightwood graves, and make more plans for their future.





	In Passing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) I know not everyone reads the notes we write on here, but please have a look at the tags and summary, and if there's something in there that you're uncomfortable about, PLEASE READ THE NOTES AT THE END.
> 
> This is a oneshot, and is entirely inspired by a discussion on fb. You know who you are ;)

They say that cemeteries are peaceful places. A hush over a final door closing, a respectful whisper for those who have left this life. A place for remembrance, where loved ones left behind can gather and find solace in memories, speak final words they never found the opportunity to say to those who have breathed their last breath so can no longer answer back.

They are wrong, whoever _they_ are, Magnus thinks bitterly, briefly turning his eyes up to the night sky before dropping them down again. Magnus hates cemeteries.  

Cemeteries are not peaceful places for him. Over the years, they have been battlegrounds, bitter memories, and beyond anything else, a chilling, hateful reminder that he is destined to forever be alone. Destined to stand at headstones, as those he cares about return to the earth they came from, and cannot hear all the things he wished he’d told them when they were still alive.

He’s cursed himself more than once for still failing to find the right words, even when knowing the eventual, unavoidable outcome.

For anyone who believes immortality a gift, Magnus sometimes wishes he could drag them into a cemetery and make them feel what he is feeling. That ache in his heart, that hollowness in his chest, that sting in the back of his eyes—and that’s just the physical impact of forever losing someone. But that bittersweet taste that is not on his tongue, those last whispered adulations that are beyond his ear. That pain, that feels like his entire essence is crumbling in on itself; those are agonies he cannot put into words, however much he’d like to.  

Then _they_ would know. Then _they_ might understand.

Immortality is loneliness. It is opening up your heart even in the knowledge that it will be broken forever again, when there is no way to will it not to be. And yes, he thinks to himself, shrugging a little tighter into his jacket against the cold of the midnight air, Mundanes have always risked having their hearts broken by both time and bad choices—or even bad luck. But when their loved ones pass, there is, surely, a sense of comfort to know that one day they will get to follow. And that hollow, empty feeling can be filled temporarily with a perhaps foolish hope of seeing them again, wherever beyond will take them.

Magnus cannot follow his loved ones in the same way. Of course, he huffs to himself, he could force himself to follow. But ever since that bridge all those years ago, the idea of doing anything to end his life himself sits heavy, aching with the knowledge that immortality is actually a gift for all he can do to help his people, and others generally. But a curse for being trapped with forever being left behind.

Everyone takes life for granted, he thinks then, lifting his eyes from the headstone he’s been staring at for he doesn’t know how long. Mundane, Shadowhunter, Downworlder. Mortal or immortal; every one of them has moments when they don’t appreciate what it is to be living. When they are forever certain that they don’t have enough time. Calls unanswered when in the middle of something important. Visits turned down because of bad moods. Hugs returned half-heartedly because something else has their attention. Truly; if people could stack up all of the minutes they waste thinking about not having enough time, then they too might be immortal.

Not that there is anything to be done about any of that now.

Magnus sighs hard then, casting his eyes over the rows of graves before and around him, listening to the light rustling of the trees and the stillness in the air. It isn’t peaceful, he thinks, it’s crushing him. The weight of a thousand words left unsaid, a million memories that taunt and haunt him, for all the people he can’t bring back. If he started listing all of their names he would still be standing here at sunrise, and that would do no good; there are living people that are waiting on him, ironically, demanding of his time.

Not that he begrudges them, he thinks then with a soft smile, even if some of them are doomed to leave him just as all those laid out before him. It’s just some anniversaries are harder to deal with than others, and this one in particular is especially hard.  

Magnus reaches out, traces a finger over the engraved name of _Lightwood_ , and feels his entire body stoop forward.

Ragnor once told him that this was his burden in life. To be the storyteller left behind to record their histories. To catalogue the battles, the unions, the alliances, and the betrayals. To celebrate the successes, and help others learn from the failures. To be the last one standing, and hope for a better future for all those who are to come.

Magnus never intended to be a record keeper for _Shadowhunters_.

He’s detailed the lives and times of many a Mundane, anonymously added facts to the history lessons taught in their schools and institutions. He’s recorded Lore for a hundred fallen Downworlders from Warlock to Seelie, and everyone in between.  

But Shadowhunters, he thinks, trying to straighten his spine yet only succeeding in falling a little more forward, their histories were always so bitterly intertwined with those of _his_ people, that he never even considered wanting to document any one of them.

Until Alec…

Magnus closes his eyes, the ache in his heart lurching him off balance, and for a second he has to pinch over his eyes, steady his breathing, and strengthen his legs. It’s been years, he thinks, sighing hard, and every year he’s convinced himself it’ll get a little easier. But the passage of time is rarely that kind. It might soften the blow of a particular memory every now and then. Might twist a bittersweet smile recalling a favorite tale, or song. But the one thing it can never do is bring back those who are lost. Leaving them left behind forever stumbling forward into a lonely unknown.

Magnus sighs to himself again, tells himself to stop being so maudlin. There are people, he reminds himself once again, living and breathing, that are relying on him for all manner of things come morning—and long before then.

“You think Jace’d be pissed at me for letting his headstone get overgrown?”

Magnus closes his eyes at the feel of warm arms wrapping around him from behind, and smells the earth on Alec’s fingers from where no doubt he’s been tidying that grave.

“I think Jace would be more annoyed that you were _wasting your time here and not living_ ,” Magnus replies, leaning back so when Alec drops his head forward, he can lean against it.

Alec huffs in agreement and turns to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Izzy would tell me I didn’t bring enough flowers,”

Magnus turns the fraction he can without shifting out of Alec’s embrace and looks to their left, where they laid the huge bouquet of blood red roses earlier, and smiles.  

“Clary would probably say something like, _shouldn’t you be finding someone new to scowl at_?” and as he hoped it would do, Magnus hears Alec snort with laughter before dropping his head down on to his shoulder where he nods in agreement.

“And Max?” Alec asks, and that awful, jarring silence closes in on them, pulling regretful sighs from both of their mouths as their eyes trace over his name in front of them.

Max had been the last Lightwood to pass, and for Alec the hardest to deal with. With no mortal ties left to tether him to the world, Alec had been restless. They’d travelled for three years straight before Alec would allow himself to grieve. Magnus remembers when he’d finally slumped, sobbing into his arms, inconsolable for all those he’d lost. Magnus ached for Alec then, and he aches for Alec now. He aches for how Alec is hurting, and for how much he wants to help, but can’t really help enough.

“Probably something impatient to do with fighting,” Magnus says, remembering the warrior Alec’s little brother had turned into, how his very eyes had seemed to light whenever they headed out on a mission. How proud he had been when his name had been given to their son.

They don’t mention Maryse or Robert, though they’ve both paid their quiet respects to them in turn as well. Magnus had only left Alec alone with his parabatai because there might be private thoughts he wanted to share with him; otherwise he’s been firmly pressed into his side, hoping to be an anchor for him.  

This yearly pilgrimage to this cemetery full of so much loss for them both—especially for Alec—has been harder than on previous visits. There is no particular reason for it, but Magnus knows perhaps better than anyone, how grief can rise up to strike out of nowhere.

Tonight, in something that has become a tradition for them, they’ll spend an evening in a favorite hotel not too far from here, trading memories and toasting to all the people they’ve loved and lost. Magnus hopes it will go some way to soothing him; it’s been so long since he’s had to deal with it alone, yet it doesn’t mean he forgets what it’s like. He wishes there was more he could do to guide Alec through it, but also knows that quietly standing by his side is sometimes all he can offer. That and himself, of course, but Alec knows he has that, always.

Their lives are so full of love, brimming with extended family and friends, as well as their own children that they’ve raised, that sometimes Alec confesses he feels selfish for missing all those laid out before them so much. In those moments, Magnus gathers him close and holds him, loves him. Thanks him for allowing himself to go through all of this grief, by choosing to be with him.

Immortality comes at a price, and Magnus has got a few more centuries of practice dealing with it than Alec does. It doesn’t make it easier, but it does make it possible to bear, and has taught him the few placating words and gestures Alec might need to get through it as well.

There will never be words and gestures enough that Magnus can give Alec, for choosing not to leave him alone.  

As Alec continues to hold him in silence, Magnus lets his mind wander back. To their first conversations, their first kisses, the first time they’d made up after a fight. He thinks of the love they’ve confessed and made over the long, long years together, of the night Alec had proposed, and the early spring morning when he’d told him he wanted to be with him forever. The rituals they’d been through to make Alec immortal, their wedding, all their anniversaries and other special occasions. Magnus knows he is fortunate where most immortals are not, to have someone want to be with him like Alec does him.  

There is never a day that Magnus forgets to thank whoever is listening for bringing Alec into his life.

“I was thinking,” Alec says then, calling his attention back as he presses kisses up his neck, “when we’re back from travelling—”

Magnus’ stomach gives an excited jolt just at the thought of it. At the end of this week they are leaving, just the two of them, for a much needed, extended break. It could be weeks, it could be months, and they have nothing in mind aside from their first destination. He can’t wait for an endless stretch of time alone with his husband, seeing all this world has to offer, seeking out both the new and old things they like together.

“—our place is… a little quiet,”

Their place, Magnus thinks with a smile, a beautiful, sprawling home in a neighborhood where the other residents have no idea that they’re living in the company of immortals. What would they think if they knew the identity of some of their visitors, he thinks to himself with a smile, then turns his focus back to Alec’s observation, and feels his stomach give another excited flip.

“Oh?” he says anyway, leaving Alec to speak.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had anyone live there aside from us,” Alec continues, and he’s right. Their children are forever visiting, of course, as are their friends and everyone else they love and care about. But it’s true; there is a distinct echo of emptiness in the walls that speaks of rooms needing to be filled with love and laughter.

Not that he doesn’t love having Alec to himself of course.

“Are you thinking about us getting a cat?” he teases, thinking it’s been at least three years since their last. There are enough strays that come into their garden that he can shower with affection, of course, but that’s not quite the same as waking up to a bundle of fur insinuating itself down into their pillows first thing in the morning demanding to be fed.

“We could get a cat too,” Alec laughs, squeezing him a little tighter, then spinning Magnus in his arms, though not so either of them are disrespectfully turning their backs to the graves they’re visiting.

“Maybe two. So they have company,” Magnus suggests, grinning up at him as he wraps his arms around his waist.

“Two,” Alec agrees, bending to press a kiss to his cheek, “but I was thinking more of another child,”

They’ve spoken about it, of course, more so over the past few years. Alec is an exceptional father, and Magnus has spent hours just silently watching the way he is with their children, listening as he read them stories when they were small, fussing over them every time they’ve been sick. They’re more than old enough now not to need such attention, but Alec still does his best to give it, earning himself repeated eye rolls that he has no one but himself to blame for receiving, since it is an art that only he could teach so well.  

Magnus thinks then of all the tricks and traits their current children will teach their future children, and can’t wait for any of it.

“Of course, we’d have to redecorate,” he says, feeling Alec smile into his neck.

“Of course,” he agrees, laughter tinting his voice, and they sway together there for a moment then fall into a hug, with Magnus pressing his head down against Alec’s shoulder and letting him draw whatever strength he needs from him.

“I think,” Magnus begins to say then as he pulls back and looks up at him, “that both Jace and Izzy would be honored if we give them their names,”

“So, two kids, two cats,” Alec grins back at him, though his eyes are softened with that kind of affection reserved for when Magnus truly reaches his heart.

“I can’t imagine Chairman Meow being so… generous to his successors,” he adds, earning himself a laugh.  

“That cat,” Alec sighs, leaving Magnus wondering exactly which memory he is recalling. He has enough of his own that would invite exactly that tone of bemused frustration.

They smile at each other then, and Magnus leans up just enough to gently kiss him, pleased to see a little more sadness seeping away from Alec’s eyes. He turns once more in his arms, wrapping Alec’s arms around his waist from behind, and silently they continue to observe the headstones together, paying quiet respects to all those that have passed.  

“Let’s go,” Alec says a little later, squeezing him tight and pressing a kiss to his temple. Magnus never rushes this part, never prompts him, never shows any impatience to leave. He can’t give him anything other than his time, patience, and strength for these anniversaries, and so he doesn’t move at all, until Alec nudges him again.

“You’re certain,” Magnus asks anyway, turning and lightly gripping on to his fingers, checking his face over for any signs that Alec might be leaving sooner than he wants to for _him_.  

Alec untangles their fingers, cups his face, and kisses him sweetly, nodding back at him with a soft smile.  

“Let’s go home,”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've said before, I don't write MCD stories... but then I suppose that depends on your definition of major characters, doesn't it... I guess for me, that means that there is no (permanent) death of the main characters I'm writing about.
> 
> For this one, let me say for the record, that neither Alec nor Magnus die. The mortals in their life do, however... there is also a very brief mention of that time Magnus was on Blackfriars Bridge.


End file.
